Page 39 of Tequila Tuesdays

I swung the door wide and motioned for him to come in. “Did you get it working again?”

He walked past me into the little entryway and looked around my living space. He set down his toolbox and backpack, then bent down and scratched Gary behind his ears. Gary leaned into his leg, then came back to my side.

My house was small, but cozy. A soft comfortable oatmeal-colored couch took up a good portion of the living room and faced a decent-sized TV. A small potted olive tree sat in the sunniest corner of the room, and a couple of framed photos stood on the entryway table.

I walked over and took a seat on the couch, and Damien followed me over.

He rubbed his face. “I ended up playing referee between my client and his daughter.”

I winced. “What happened?”

“They finally agreed to keep the exterior cameras and security system on, but turned off the cameras inside the house and backyard. It was tense for a few minutes though.”

“I hate getting in the middle of family issues like that. You should charge hazard pay.”

He looked at my muted desert landscape painting and the two mid-century modern architectural prints on my wall. A few work periodicals and a half-finished novel sat on my vintage wood and glass coffee table.

“I like your house. It suits you. Did I interrupt anything?” He looked at my hair twisted in a messy knot on top of my head, and my swimsuit and coverup.

“No. I was just sitting outside with Gary, finishing up some work. Nothing important.”

“How long have you had Gary?”

Gary lifted his face off my lap when he heard his name.

“A couple of years.” I grimaced. “He’s technically Ava’s dog, but he prefers me. When Ava first got him, she’d forget to feed and water him sometimes. So I unilaterally re-homed him.”

He smirked. “Huh. And your mom lives next door?” He nodded toward her house.

“Yeah. She’s probably golfing today.”

“I get the impression you two aren’t very close. So why do you live next door to her?”

I looked away and thought about how to answer. Damien was becoming my friend, and he’d come to my aid at Jonathan’s birthday lunch. So I decided to trust him a little.

“Because she needs family around to help keep her on track. I can pick up on the warning signs better if I see her a few times a week. She’s a recovering opioid addict.”

Damien didn’t flinch or frown. “Is that the ‘illness’ she referred to the other day?”

“Yes. I guess it is an illness in a way.”

He nodded. “I’m sorry. She also said your dad and fiancé died. What happened?”

I studied him. “My dad had a heart attack. It was sudden. I was a sophomore in high school at the time.”

“I’m sorry. And your fiancé?”

It had taken a long time to stop wearing my engagement ring. The sharp pain of losing Ryan had ebbed over the years, but I wondered if I could even love someone like that again.

“He died in a car wreck when I was a junior in college.” Damien waited for me to expound, but there wasn’t much more to say. “Don’t feel sorry for me. I’ve had a good life. When Laurel told me about how her father treats her and her little brothers, I couldn’t fathom a dad treating his daughter like that. So I feel lucky all in all.”

He watched me. “That’s one way to look at it.”

“What about your family?” I asked, obviously changing the subject.

“My parents are divorced, but they’re both stable. They’re good people, and my childhood could have been a lot worse.”

“You’re right. It could’ve been.” When I started working in the juvenile court, I got involved with some severely dysfunctional families. It’d helped me to be more grateful for my own family, warts and all.

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